Lifetime
by Great Aunt Florence
Summary: The innocent never last. Child!Raito Sachiko/Soichiro.


**TITLE: **LIFETIME  
**AUTHOR: **Great Aunt Florence.  
**FANDOM: **Death Note.  
**PAIRING: **Sachiko/Soichiro.  
**WARNINGS: **None.  
**RATING: T**

* * *

LIFETIME.  
(the innocent never last.)  
_Wait, they don't love you like I love you._

* * *

Sachiko had never been particularly creative or quick-minded, she had received average marks all throughout school as a child, and she had graduated from a mediocre college with a degree in business (something that she still hadn't put to use).

She was working for a small business supply factory, filing paper work and conversing for hours over the phone with customers who desperately _needed products the next day_, no matter how persistently she informed them that she was not, in fact, a god of office necessities, and she had been sitting in the same boring cubicle for three years without a promotion when she met the love of her life.

It happened at a company party that she was forced to attend to, wearing a plain, little black dress, and thin, strapy black heels; she wore her silky hair down and straight, not having the energy to impress. The party's occupants were large customers of the company who ordered their products in bulk, and that was where she first saw him.

He was standing across the room in a crisp tuxedo, looking serious and standing rigid and tall (exceptionally tall for a Japanese man), surrounded by other men who were wearing the same uniform, yet not managing to compare. His eyes were dark and mysterious, and a wisdom resided in their depths that appeared to be mature beyond his years.

She was instantly captivated; well, he _was_ at least more interesting than her co-worker continuing on in an annoyed voice about the rude call she had recieved the previous day by an upset customer.

Sachiko excused herself abruptly from the one-sided conversation and walked straight toward the handsome man across the room, leaving the woman she had previously been standing next to with an appalled expression adorning her face.

The man had a bored look about him as he added in a comment to the conversation happening around him; the others in his circle immediately ceased their conversation when he added his thoughts and appeared to pay rapt attention to his words. They contemplated whatever he had said, and then proceeded to chat amongst themselves.

Sachiko's knees progressed more and more into jelly as she walked over to the group of men that surrounded the only one she wanted to talk to. And as she got closer, he finally looked over toward her; his eyes held surprise, and what Sachiko hoped was interest.

"Excuse me." She heard his deep baritone voice dismiss himself from the conversation he was certainly not engaged in, and he pushed his way out from between the others to meet her with confidence.

"Good evening," he said, bowing toward her, "I'm Soichiro."

He smiled a warm smile, his pearly teeth shining in the glow of the lights hanging from the ceiling and his eyes crinkling slightly. And Sachiko was sure that she had never heard a more beautiful name; she stood for a moment, observing the wonderful man before her, and then, seeming to snap out of a daze (she really hoped Soichiro hadn't noticed), she bowed back.

"Sachiko."

* * *

She wasn't selling office supplies anymore, and she wasn't sitting in a cubicle pretending to pay attention to one of her co-workers ramblings.

She was cutting up apple slices for an innocent, intelligent little boy with amber eyes and copper hair, and he wasn't fussy, and he already knew how to hold a conversation. He could walk, and feed himself and he was taking an interest in pencils and books and all the bugs in the backyard. His eyes would sparkle whenever he learned something new, and then he would move on to something else to occupy his attention, soaking up knowledge, Sachiko was sure, like not most other children his age.

Sachiko felt a pull on her pant leg as she was cleaning the second apple under the clear, pure water rushing from the tap. She turned her attention downward toward her leg and saw a little concerned face peering up at her with curiousity, amber eyes flickering with impatience and hair shining in the sunlight coming through the open window above the sink. Like a halo.

"Why it takin' so long, mama?" His tone was serious as he looked up at her.

"I've got to clean the apples so the pesticides come off," Sachiko looked down at her son with pride as he tried to pronounce pesticides himself, determination flashing across his round, cherubic face.

"Pes-tikles," Raito mumbled solemnly, trying to grasp the concept.

Sachiko smiled, and finished slicing the red, juicy apples into pieces that Raito would soon count at the table and declare, with complete confidence, the correct number.

And she didn't care if her husband was working, and wasn't home most of the time. Because he gave her the most important and special thing she could ever want.

And she was proud.

* * *

The warm summer breeze floated through the open window above the sink later that night as Sachiko steamed rice on the stove; Raito was occupied at the dining table with blank paper and crayons scattered around the shining, wooden surface.

He was attempting, as he had told his mother a few minutes ago when she asked what he was making, to draw the strange (and slightly frightening, but he would never admit it) animal he had seen in one of the biology books full of various sea creatures Soichiro had brought home for him when Raito had declared his love for the sea.

Raito had been in the kitchen with her all day, asking her how to work the stove and if he could try stirring the rice. And he wanted to know how rice looked like under the lens of a microscope (Sachiko was surprised that he knew what such a scientific instrument was used for), but when Sachiko could give him no answers to his inquiry, his face shadowed with disappointment, and Raito decided that he would figure out when he got his hands on a microscope.

All he needed was rice. As Raito was plotting the exact scenario in which he could escape with aforementioned rice without his mother's knowledge, the jingle of the doorbell sounded through the halls and into the open door of the kitchen.

"Daddy!" Raito cried in childish excitement as he put his crayons down neatly. He picked up his picture in a hurry and jumped off his chair, rushing out of the kitchen, his feet pattering down the hall toward the door.

"Make sure to ask who it is!" Sachiko called, reminding her son to be safe and not open the door to strangers.

"Who is it?" Sachiko heard Raito call suspiciously from the front of the house. She smiled through the steam the pot of rice was producing.

Hearing a deep, familiar voice from behind the wooden front door, Raito deemed it safe to open. He stood on his tip-toes and reached for the shiny brass handle, turning it fully and swinging the barrier toward himself. A disheveled man with dark brown, slicked back hair stood before him in a suit.

"Daddy's home!" Raito yelled happily as his father walked through the entrance, setting his brief case next to the coat hanger and slipping out of his shiny black shoes. He grabbed for Raito, but before he could pull him into an embrace, Raito shoved a drawing into his face.

Raito's eyes lit up with childish pride, happy with his accomplishment as he presented it to his father. Soichiro recognized the picture to be one of the fish from a book he had bought his son.

"This is really nice, Raito. Thank you for giving it to me," Soichiro congratulated his son. When Raito didn't reply to his compliment like he normally would, Soichiro pulled his eyes away from the drawing and to his tiny son who was bent over his shiny, black work shoes.

"Men wear these to work." Raito decided in a small voice. He stepped into his father shoes. "Men like shiny shoes to go to work in."

"Yes they do," Soichiro agreed, holding Raito's creation in one hand and rumpling his son's perfect, silky hair with his other. Raito frowned when his hair was messed up and stepped out of the shoes. He rushed down the hall and disappeared within the kitchen before Soichiro could do anything else.

* * *

Her family sat around the impeccably set table, each with a steaming plate of food before them. Raito had a sippy cup full of milk to the side of his plate; he had picked the cup out himself when he saw the little fish the swam around it, printed on the plastic. His pork was cut up for him, even though he indignantly declared that he could do it himself. Sachiko had simply smiled at her son's independence and continued to slice them into small, bite size segments.

Soichiro seemed tired, but happy to be home. He had slowly followed in Raito's wake to the kitchen, and upon entering he had put his arms around Sachiko and kissed her on the cheek from behind. Raito made a _'bleh'_ sound when he witnessed this display of affection at the table with his drawing implements.

This was one of the rare nights that Soichiro could spare to spend with her and Raito, and she appreciated it. She was not bitter; she knew what her husband sacrificed in the name of justice. She hoped that one day Raito would be the same, that he would be just as driven and righteous as his father.

"How was your day at work, Soichiro?" Sachiko asked as she leaned over the table to pick apart more pork for Raito who was currently having trouble eating his rice with his chop-sticks.

"Oh fine, fine. We got a new agent today, fresh out of law school. Not a single ounce of experience."

"Not a single ounce!" Raito echoed, grapping his fish sippy cup. Soichiro smiled adoringly at his son and continued.

"His name's Aizawa. He was put in my department, so I've taken it upon myself to mentor him. He has amazing potential, and a great work ethic."

Sachiko nodded as she ate some of her rice.

"How was your and Raito's day?" Soichiro questioned as he ate some of his bamboo shoots.

"Oh, we got along; Raito learned a knew word today. Tell Daddy what you learned, Raito."

Raito looked up from his plate at his parents with bored eyes.

"Pestikles." Raito pronounced each syllable carefully. "They stick on apples and that's not good." Raito's eyes were serious and held a hint of worry.

Soichiro laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "I think you mean, pesticides, Raito."

Raito looked cautiously toward his father.

"Pest-i-cides." Raito face was screwed up in concentration, wanting to get it right.

"There's my boy," Soichiro chortled as he took a sip of his warm tea, "This is really good Sachi."

"Mmmmmm," Raito agreed.

Sachiko smiled at her family. They were beautiful, and she was happy.

"Thank you."

* * *

When it was time for bed that night, Raito told his mother solidly that he would be wearing his white pajamas, not the dinosuar footie ones.

And as Sachiko tucked her son under the warm blankets, and offered him a bed time story (he declined the offer), she thought of her family.

Her family was perfect; her son was beautiful and intelligent and independent, her husband was caring and stood for justice, and he would surely be an ideal male role model for Raito. She loved her son with all her heart, and would do anything for his well-being.

Her family was perfect. And nothing could ever change that.

* * *

Somewhere in the future, a pair of bored, amber eyes stared out a window and followed the descent of a perfect, black notebook, falling from the sky.

* * *

**AN:** Keep in mind that Raito is only about two and a half in this story; in the last sentence, well, I bet you can figure out how old he is. (Also, I hope I didn't make him too smart, but he is a genius, so.)

Wow, I think this is the longest thing I have ever posted on FanFiction. Actually, I'm positive it is! I really wanted to write this when I thought about how perfect the Yagami family was before the Death Note appeared in Raito's life. I wanted to portray Raito as young and innocent, and I wanted to do it partly from Sachiko's and Soichiro's point of view. Especially Sachiko, who used to have such a perfect family, but it was destroyed and she was left with nothing, all because of the Death Note.

Also, I ended it with Raito setting eyes on the note because to me, _that was the end of his life. _As tragic as that is, I believe it's true (even though Raito is my number one favorite).

Review, please. I would love to hear what everyone thinks!


End file.
